I see her later that day too. At the grocery store this time. I am struggling with my purchases and marking off my list. I look up to see her walking by with her perfectly behaved kids and cart full of organic groceries. Dark hair up in a purposely loose bun, cute Gap outfit and pretty smile. On top of her perfection, nothing processed in her cart! She seems to be the perfect, healthy mom I want to be but miss the boat at times. Darn it! My excited attempt at a new recipe falls a little flat as I realize it contains cream cheese and canned soup. She would never make that.
She seems to be following me everywhere today. Sitting at the doctor's office with my youngest, I look over and see her sitting there. Flowered dress, creamy complexion, nose in a book as her perfect lil baby sleeps in her carrier. Blissful really. I am scrambling to get my disabled child's foot braces on while keeping my other girls entertained with their electronics and a fruit snack. To read a real book would be a dream. She seems to have it all. I think about her as I continue on with my day.
At church she is there. Bringing joy to all who know her, such an amazing person who volunteers for everything, serves in a big position, children know every scripture story, craft whiz, food storage pro. Her dress never has a wrinkle in it and her hair is always curled and her children look and act even more perfect. I long to be like her because she is just so nice and good. I feel I fall short as I watch her.
She comes in all shapes and sizes. She sneaks in at every place I frequent, event I attend, this image of perfection that I can never be all of is there; waiting for me to find her and make me want to be like her. She lets my insecurities resurface and makes me forget the talents and gifts I do possess. Oh I wish SHE would not follow me everywhere! It's exhausting.
Fast forward. I am in line with my girls at the bank. Today is a good day. All three are happy, we managed to have cute outfits on and everything matches. My oldest is smiling at my youngest, giving her loves she chats happily in her wheelchair. My middle child is holding my hand and reciting the continents she is learning in class. We manage to make it through the line with no issues, I am patient, everyone is happy and I do look pretty put together today. I get what I need, and we make our way out of the teller line.
Two women who were apparently behind us in line are talking to each other. I only get a small piece of their conversation but what I did hear I will never forget.
" I don't know how She does it. "
Looks of admiration are written across their faces and nods of awe are sent in my direction. I feel a warmth in my chest and smile, turning to leave the bank.
As I push open the glass door to let my little girls through and finagle the wheelchair out the door with one hand I look up at my reflection in the glass. She looks pretty. Pretty good. Pretty happy, pretty put together. I am someone's " she " today.
Aren't we all?